Sick of Predictable
by genuine beautyy
Summary: AU - "I want a girl who likes it her way, and through it all I know I'll end up alone." quoted Sebastian. This intrigued Santana and she said, "I want to fight. I want to rock and roll and party all night."
1. Rewind: Run

Disclaimer: I do not own recognizable characters. They are property of FOX and the writers of GLEE. This is an AU story.

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><p><strong><strong>Rewind: Run<strong>**

**- 10 Months Ago | Los Angeles, California**

In a far off place, there was the sound of an annoying binging. The room was warm, sun pouring in from the curtain-less windows. The faint smell of smoke, whiskey and vodka lingered in the air. The binging, screeching sound got louder and louder with every second passing. A girl laid on the couch, slowly coming into consciousness. Her brown eyes peeled opened to the bright room and the binging was pulsing. She reached out and grabbed the source of the sound which was her phone going off like the Fourth of July fireworks. She squinted her eyes to read the time and swore under her breath as she placed the phone back down on the table and jolted up. The only article of clothing she was wearing was a pair of black laced panties, nothing else. Santana Lopez quickly raced into her bedroom to find clothes for the day ahead. She lost her footing, gripping onto the corner of the wall as her head spun and a groan left her mouth. Once she regained stability, Santana dressed herself quickly and brushed her teeth twice to get the stench of the cigarettes and alcohol off her breath.

When she was dressed, she searched around for her little red book with her work schedule in it. Finding it moments later she tore through the pages fiercely until she found the correct date and read the address. It wasn't even two minutes later that she was out the door completely dressed with her purse in hand. Her feet stamped against the cement stairs as she used the fire escape which was quicker than the slow as fuck elevator. The air of Los Angeles was as warm as ever when she stepped out into the early morning air and hailed down a taxi. Santana slid into the backseat, quickly verbalizing where she needed to be. Her eyes kept to her phone to watch the time. _Shit_, she scolded herself and then her head suddenly began to pound a little from the hangover she was currently enduring. That was her punishment from staying out into the early hours of the morning getting piss drunk. The taxi pulled up to the building moments later. Santana tossed him a twenty and exited the car, pulling open the door and made a beeline to the elevator. Even then she was still checking the time to make sure she wouldn't be late.

However, she was late by one full goddamn minute.

"You're late." Teresa hissed at Santana as the Latina rushed into the spacious room. She took the articles of clothing Teresa was handing out to her and started towards the back room.

"You're late!" Santana's arm was grabbed before she could enter the room. She turned back to see Danny there. Danny was the photographer of the photo shoot Santana was participating in today. She had done some work for him when she first got to Los Angeles five years ago. Danny looked her over carefully and raised an eyebrow. "Late night?" He questioned, looking directly at her blood shot eyes. "Still high?" Santana ripped her arm away from him and walked into the back room, shutting the door.

Quickly, she changed into the set of clothes and walked back out to sit in a chair that was placed in front of a small vanity. Two other girls came to her and started on her makeup and hair, performing in a fast pace as they knew Santana had been late as well. Danny was talking on his phone, bitching at someone. That was nothing new. He looked over at Santana as he hung up his phone and picked up a DSLR camera, walking over to her. He excused the other two girls and stood behind Santana. Leaning down, Danny brushed some of her hair away from her neck and a smirk was painted on his lips. He snapped a picture. Santana blinked. Danny was one to sleep with his models. Santana didn't have any part of that and she wouldn't cave in for him… Not like she used to. Not like when she was new to the city, when she was vulnerable and naïve.

Before he could do anything, Santana got off the chair and started towards the simple set of a beige backdrop and matching beige boxes she could perch herself on. The room had large windows with natural light pouring in so the only lights they needed to use were the soft boxes. But they didn't even need those; Santana was flawless with her clear skin, plump lips, raven hair and those rare brown eyes that you could get trapped in. Danny had turned around by then and changed lenses for the camera, telling Santana some simple instructions and began to snap away. She posed liked was supposed to, didn't dare to step out of line because Danny's anger was as big as Texas. She had witnessed it firsthand one time, which left a blue-purplish bruise on her cheek for three months.

The shoot was no more than two hours. Santana changed back into her personal clothes and walked out to see mostly everyone had left except for Danny. Her heels tapped against the ceramic flooring causing Danny to look up and smile at her. "You looked hot today." He commented.

Santana smiled to herself, rolling her eyes. She'd play along for the hell of it. "It's a talent, even when I show up late with a hangover and still a little high from the night before. Still hot, always hot." The Latina shrugged her shoulders and closed the short distance between them. She glanced over at the computer seeing the pictures taken from the shoot. She was rather impressed by them, pointing out her favourites and Danny pointed out his.

Santana tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and watched the pictures go by in a slideshow. Danny rose to a proper standing position, his arms were lightly crossed over his chest and he stared at his model. "You did really well today, Tana." He said. Santana smiled, too occupied with the pictures to reply. "No one's here and I was thinking you and I can go into the back…" Danny tugged at her light jacket, turning her towards him and pulled Santana close. He leaned into her, his lips brushing her ear. "I've got some X in the back." He pressed a kiss to her neck. Santana flinched, immediately pushing Danny away and glared at him. He chuckled, "Don't be a little bitch, Tana. You know you want to."

"You're a fucking asshole!" She shouted at him. "I'm not eighteen anymore. Go find some other whore to deal with. I'm not that person anymore." She turned on her heel, starting towards the door. Then she stopped and turned back. "I want my pay in cash. And here's my resignation. I'm done here. I'm done with LA. I'm done with all this bullshit."

Danny laughed. "Where are you going to go? What are you going to do? You don't have a name anywhere else, Santana. You're only a star in LA, baby, and trust me, your light is going to burn out as soon as you leave this city!" He shouted as she made her way to the door. "You'll be nothing! You're nothing but a wannabe actress that models and sleeps with anything that has legs. Looks like Mother Teresa by day, but at night the claws come out and she's Satan. You're already _nothing_."

And it was true. Santana Lopez was nothing in Los Angeles anymore. She had tried so hard for five years to make it big in Los Angeles but she couldn't do it. Only landed small projects, small indie movies, small stage productions. UCLA didn't even help at all. Landing in jail a good amount of times for being intoxicated in public and getting into fights with other girls… She was a mess. Santana had stopped at the door and wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye. The Latina simply wanted to be good enough for something, for someone but she couldn't even do that. She had let her parents down, her family and especially her Abuelita.

Swallowing her fears, Santana started out of the room as Danny kept throwing insults at her back. She could feel the stabs from the words but wouldn't let them affect her. She had a plan and that plan would set her free. The first step was to purchase a plane ticket to get out of La La Land where false hopes can bring you down live an avalanche. There was nothing left here for her. And the next step, the next step was to start over in the city that never sleeps.

New York City.

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><p><em>- To be continued. Comments are much appreciated. <em>


	2. Fast Forward: L'Americano

Disclaimer: I do not own recognizable characters. They are property of FOX and the writers of GLEE. This is an AU story.

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><p><strong>Fast Forward: L'Americano<strong>

**Present Day | New York, New York**

The cameras were rolling on set. The producer and director were chatting on the sidelines of the sound stage; however the chatting was more like arguing. Santana stood on the sound stage and sighed, shaking her head. Just another typical day on set for a Freddie Jensen movie, he was a famous indie director that had won all kinds of awards at the film festivals and is lined up for an Oscar or two currently. He was the guy to look to when it came to the dark, sinister side of movies because he was bloody good at it. Pun intended. He was no Tim Burton but he could pull off being someone close to him as they both had twisted minds. Plus the costumer design he had that worked in every movie he made was phenomenal, mainly because she was most likely sleeping with Freddie every goddamn night. And Santana had to admit that he wasn't all that great in bed, it was random grunts and moans that didn't fit what was going on. He wasn't that big either, of course when you're drunk nothing matters.

"Santana! Luna needs you!" Santana snapped out of her trance and glanced around. She sighed, getting off the sound stage and grabbed her clipboard. The girl wasn't an actress, she was still aspiring and the best she could do right now was be an assistant to Freddie and his pretty little pin up actresses with the snotty, "I'm so much hotter and richer than you" attitude. The worst part was that while the filming was in progress she'd be attending to Luna Starlet. And yes, that name is written on her birth certificate. She's the daughter of Richard Starlet who was a famous jazz musician, and her mother Beatrice Kings was a model for Playboy. Basically, Luna was a spitting imagine of her blonde, blue eyed mother that could be comparable to Marilyn Monroe. Now to the worst part was that she would never be pleased with you unless it was done to the tens. Every assistant she had was fired within a week. One girl didn't even last twelve hours before getting the boot.

It had surprised Santana that she had been around Luna Starlet for three months and was still kicking around. She was probably the longest assistant Luna had and the best part about that was when the camera stopped rolling, Santana didn't work for her until the cameras starting rolling the next day. She was the movie assistant, not the actress assistant and she thanked whatever God there was for that. As she approached Luna's dressing room, she knocked on the door three times letting the girl know it was her before she walked in.

"Santana!" Luna cried, and rushed over to the girl. Santana could easily manipulate the blonde with just a simple smile and she wouldn't even know. The girl was like putty in her hands but the Latina would play fair when needed. "That damn chef messed up my lunch _again_! Everyone knows I'm a vegetarian and you know what he did?"

"What did he do, Luna?"

"He gave me a chicken salad! I can't eat chicken!" The little blonde girl exclaimed and stomped her feet. When Luna got angry she turned into a five year old having a temper tantrum. Amusing, yet annoying as you want to slap the plus twenty years into her to stop bitching and figure things out for herself. But that's wasn't how she was raised. She was raised with nannies and chefs and assistants just waiting at their hands and knees for Luna to call them and carry her over a puddle. But now Santana was getting distracted with her own thoughts that the whiny princess actress was practically shouting at her.

She sighed, "I'll get it sorted out and have the caterer bring you something else without meat in it. Along with some strawberry sorbet." Luna bounced on her tips of her toes like a little girl before turning back around and resumed whatever she was doing before which probably was sexting Brody Jenner or whoever she had her eye on this week. Santana shook her head, walking out of the dressing room and starting towards the catering tent. It was a simple misunderstanding. Luna's lunch and another actress' had been mixed up. A simple mistake had caused little miss perfect to freak the fuck out over nothing.

The day of shooting had come to a close quickly. Santana gathered her belongings from a little room off of the sound stage and headed out the back door without saying a word to anyone else. She was beyond hungry and tired but the tired part was now just a permanent feeling hanging over her head every day. The sun was setting in New York and in the part of the city she was at the shadows had disappeared unless they were from the artificial lights from the lamp posts. She crossed the parking lot, her eyes glancing around for a navy blue car and once it was spotted she walked a little quicker, slipping into the passenger's side and groaned loudly.

"So, how was Little Miss Sunshine today? What kinds of bitching occurred? Any scoop on who she's seeing this week."

Santana closed her eyes and rolled her head to the side. "Annoying. There was chicken in her salad today. And she's sexting Brody Jenner." She rubbed her forehead and sighed quietly. "And what did you do today, Mr Bowties? Mess around on the guitar with your hand in your pants all day?"

Blaine rolled his eyes, putting the gear shift into drive and shook his head. "I took Kurt to the airport reminding him that if you didn't get him something from Milan that you'd kill him a thousand times over. Then you called me bitching about your job. After that I went to the venue to make sure everything was in order for Friday night's show which you will be performing at, right?"

Blaine had pulled out of the parking spot, turning onto the road. "I've had my schedule cleared for that day for practically a month, Blaine. I'm not going to bail on that opportunity. Plus the venue is the Irving Plaza. You think I'm going to miss that chance? Fuck no." The bowtie freak laughed a little, shaking his head. "And we get free drinks. You know I'll be there for that."

"One day, I'm going to have to enroll you in Alcoholics Anonymous."

"Oh would you shut up? Just because I had to get my stomach pumped doesn't mean I'm an alcoholic. I lost count of how many drinks I had and I was mixing drinks as well which was not a good idea."

The car rounded a corner. Blaine was one to get irritated by the New York traffic rather quickly and started to swerve in and out of the lanes. "I was teasing you, San. Besides, the point I was going to get at was that maybe you'll meet someone there and hit it off."

Santana gazed out the window. The city lights of New York shone like the sun and made her brown eyes sparkle. "You know, you wouldn't be a good author. You're terrible at foreshadowing, so not discreet at all, Blainers." With that Blaine sighed, turning into a parking lot that was to a complex with four condominium buildings in the area.

"You're such a supportive best friend." Blaine rolled his eyes, cutting the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. He reached into the backseat to grab his guitar case and hauled it to the front before he got out.

"I'm supportive when it comes to your music. If you're going to write a book make sure you have an editor that will handle the excessive amount of terrible foreshadowing along with the continuity being poor as well." Santana exited the car, pulling her bag over her shoulder and started towards the high-rise building. She dug through her purse a moment later and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, handing one to Blaine and clamped one in between her lips.

"Kurt hates it when I smoke."

"Well, look around. Kurt's not here is he?" Santana jokingly looked around. "No, he's not. He's in Milan at Fashion Week sipping on martinis and eating pigs in a blanket that look like a million bucks." Finding her lighter, she lit her smoke along with Blaine's and shoved it back in her pocket. "And we're here in New York tending to spoiled, bitchy actresses and scoping out venues to make a buck. Lucky bastard he is."

Blaine licked his lips and set his guitar case down on the ground. He leaned against the brick wall and flicked some ashes of his cigarette away. "You are such a bitter person, San." She parted her lips to speak. "And no," The curly haired boy had cut her off. "I did not just realize this."

A small laugh came from the girl's throat. She turned so her back was against the wall and she tilted her head up to look at the clear dark sky. Santana was a bitter person she always had been and that was because she was a little jealous of Kurt being so damn successful in the fashion industry. He was under some snobby, pretentious wing at Marc Jacobs. He had made it so far and it seemed like Santana and even Blaine were stuck in time with no elbow space around them to move. The dream of becoming an actress was fading in her mind; the chances of recording an album were in a far off place as well. She sighed and let out some of the smoke that she had held in and coughed at how much it burned.

"We're going to make it big, Blaine. You'll see. We're going to be bigger than anyone ever thought. Two underdogs becoming something amazing in this world, no one will even know what hit them. We'll be walking down red carpets, placing awards on shelves and signing deals like there's no tomorrow." This was a speech, or a dream, that Santana had been telling Blaine for years. And as the years past the ideal life expanded into new and bold things. Whatever the two could think of would be thrown into the spiel.

Blaine pushed himself off the wall, the cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth. "The penthouse suite with our names written on the door, robes personalized and the perfect Italian coffee waiting for us when we wake."

"Caffé Macchiato!" Santana exclaimed in the best Italian accent she could muster up.

Tossing his burning off cigarette to the side, Blaine crushed it with his shoe and started to perform. "_Puorte o cazone cu' un stemma arreto__'na cuppulella cu' a visiera aizata__. P__asse scampanianno pe' Tuleto__, __comme a' nu guappo pe' te fa guarda_."

Santana jumped in a moment later, "_Tu vuo' fa l'americano! 'mericano! 'mericano!"_

Blaine laughed, holding out a hand for Santana. When she put out her cigarette and took hold of his hand, Blaine spun her around and they both started swaying to the beat of the song that was playing in their heads. "_Tu vuoi vivere alla moda__ma si bive 'whisky and soda.'_" Blaine was the better singer of the two for this song as he knew Italian (or Neapolitan) and his accent was far better.

"Please play this tomorrow night." Santana rested her head against Blaine's shoulder. "I shall jump in at the random parts I know and sing along with you."

He laughed, "It's already on the set list."

Santana smiled, closing her eyes as her and her best friend swaying in front of the apartment building. "I will always question why you are gay because—"

"If I were straight we'd probably be married by now."

"Precisely."

"We'll I'm not the one that likes girls _and _boys."

"I can never make up my mind."

Blaine laughed again. He twirled Santana once more before letting her go and started back towards the building. He picked up his guitar case along with Santana's purse that was on the ground and handed it to the girl. The duo walked inside towards the elevator, Blaine pushing the fifth floor button and then the sixth. Santana yawned as they rode the elevator, leaning against Blaine and closed her eyes. She hummed the melody of the Italian song until the elevator came to a halt and she moved off Blaine as it was his floor.

"Coffee tomorrow?" Blaine turned as the stepped out of the elevator.

"7AM on the dot, ragazzo."

He looked down, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Buonanotte, bella."

"Goodnight, Blaine."

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><p><em>- To be continued. Comments are much appreciated. Sebastian is in the next chapter. Promise (:<em>


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